Resident Evil: The Story of a Researcher
by FatedToPretend
Summary: The story of a team of Researchers working at the Arklay Facility in 1998; through discovery, friendship, and an outbreak that no one saw coming.
1. The Arrival

**1: The Arrival**

_**December 31**__**st**__**, 1997  
New Year's Eve  
11:45pm.**_

The estate was far more magnificent than I had ever expected.  
Even through the darkness of the mid-winter night, and the sheet of rain veiling the sight of the mansion, the sheer size of the property was apparent enough.  
The mansion itself had to consist of at least two or three stories, with a very large, arched window located on the second floor, directly above the double-door front entry on the first level, which had a column placed on either side. The color of the stone that the building was constructed of was obviously a standard shade of off-white, and a large, gorgeous balcony was clearly visible, appearing to wrap around the entire mansion, though I could not tell for sure. The weather obscured a vast amount of details of my new surroundings. All around me, pine and oak trees seemed to shudder from the wind.  
As I drove forward along the rough mountain road, I could hardly manage keeping my eyes on the ground illuminated by the headlights, for my gaze tended to drift up toward the brilliant example of architecture time after time. I was rapidly approaching my destination, both anxious and curious. _Relax…_ I told myself. _Besides, the pay is more than most could ever hope for…  
_It was the truth. The pay was incredible for the job that I had to perform. I hate to say it, but it was perhaps the main reason why I accepted the job to begin with; a job that was awaiting me on this very night, New Year's Eve.  
I was thirty one years old, and I was a Researcher. Jonathan Nathaniel Hartnett.

In only a few minutes, I had arrived at the front gate of the Spencer Estate. So this was where I would be conducting research and lab experiments? From what I could tell, it hardly seemed the place for such things.  
A small group of soldiers was assembled about ten meters beyond the large, elegant iron gate, which was quickly opened. One of the men ushered me through with haste, and the gate was closed once more. He knocked lightly on my car's driver's window, and I rolled it down.  
"Your I.D., sir?" The soldier –whom I noticed was armed- raised his voice loud enough so that I would be able to hear him through the loud rainfall and distant clashes of thunder. He was tall, but it was too dark for me to be able to see his face.  
I nodded, and reached into my pocket, pulling out my wallet, and fumbling through it until I came across my Driver's License. I handed it to him, and he jogged off, most likely to his superior officer.  
It seemed to be growing darker every moment.  
The soldier returned about five minutes later, and gave back my License. I pocketed it as he told me to step out of my car. At first I was worried, but after I did as he said, he merely led me over to a burly-looking man, dressed in a military uniform, who possessed the appearance of one whom had been through and dealt with too many troubles than he could actually bear. He greeted me with only a business-like nod and motioned toward the soldier next to me, whom then requested my car keys –which I had no other choice than to accept- and walked over to my brand new sedan.  
Another soldier that I had not noticed before rummaged through my trunk before lugging my two suitcases over to where I and his superior officer stood. There was a faint light coming from a streetlamp near the outside wall of the mansion which allowed me to see this young man's appearance. He was rather short, with messy, short, soaking wet blonde hair and light brown eyes. The soldier that I had already met drove my car outside of the iron gates, back into the darkness that I had emerged from only minutes before.  
"Excuse me, sir?" I began, catching the superior officer's attention. The young man carrying my suitcases stood still, waiting patiently. "Why is my car being taken off of the property?"  
The man's expression did not change at all. "Don't concern yourself. You won't be needing it."  
With that, he walked onward, gripping the handles of the front doors of the mansion and swinging them open. I followed his lead, stepping into the main hall whilst feeling –and perhaps even looking, to some extent- like a drowned cat.  
The main hall was hugely impressive, mostly because of its staircase that led from the center of the marble floor, its steps covered in a long, lush crimson carpet that trailed up toward the second floor. There was a painting on the wall beyond the highest step. I would not be able to accurately identify the artwork, but there is no doubt that it was a masterpiece.  
I was led further through the mansion after traveling through another large doorway into the home's dining room. As I walked along the floor, I realized how long the table truly was. There had to be at least twenty chairs on each side, and there was a large fireplace against the far wall.  
I continued even deeper into the estate's halls as I was led past door after door, until I reached an elevator near a set of cement stairs leading downward toward yet another door. There was an iron gate in front of the elevator that served as its door; its twisted, elegant design was similar, if not identical- to that of the front gate.  
"We're nearly there", I heard the younger soldier say. He seemed to be far friendlier than the tall, gruff man standing in front of me.  
The elevator's doors opened, and all three of us stepped on.

As the gate opened, I was astounded by what I saw. It was an underground laboratory…  
From the outside, one would have never thought that it could have ever existed…now I understood. It was all build to conceal what was hidden beneath. An entire estate built for this purpose.  
The walls were mixed between a light and dark grey, and countless pipes traveled throughout the corridors outside of them. The floors were merely white tile covered in a thin coat of dirt. It may have seemed plain to many others…but to people such as myself, it was incredible. This place was like a maze.  
The two military men stopped in front of a plain steel door, and the older, burly man turned to face me.  
"Stay in here until you're sent for. Your room will be prepared for you as soon as possible."  
"Thank you", I muttered.  
He nodded, and trudged off. The young soldier with my suitcases smiled and then did the same, though in the opposite direction.

And so I was left in front of the room alone, wearing one of my old grey suits which was now soaked from the heavy rain. I could no longer hear the rainfall from down here, obviously…what a shame that was. I had always loved the sound of rain.  
I reached out, clasped the knob, twisted it, and opened the door.  
Within the first second, a bright object had whizzed past my head, nearly making contact with my face.  
"Son of a-!?" I exclaimed, jumping back a half-step as I heard several erupting shouts of "HAPPY NEW YEAR!"  
Calming myself, I glanced at the floor behind me, where an orange was lying ever-so-innocently near the wall. As I took a step inside of the room, I murmured a brief string of swears before my sight beheld three men who were certainly not soldiers. All wore a standard white lab coat with Umbrella's symbol over the heart.  
The first –who'd looked as though he'd had a few too many drinks- pointed at me, bellowed "All hail the new guy!" and proceeded to fall out of his chair.  
I suppose it was safe to assume that he was more than just a bit tipsy.  
The man, who seemed to be around my age, sat up, looking somewhat stunned as the second, middle-aged one of the three grasped the other's arm and helped him to his feet. All the while, the third had burst into laughter.  
I realized then that the room I had entered was in fact, a lounge. A square table littered with trash, beer cans and countless loose papers rested in the far corner of the room, near an old radio that was blaring Frank Sinatra's version of "Blue Skies".  
The three men were obviously Researchers. The drunken one was nearly my age, no doubt, give or take. His hair was a light brown mess, and his wise eyes an oceanic blue. As he stood, laughing at his own state, I noticed that he had something of a celebrity's smile. He seemed sportive, outgoing even, though perhaps a bit too much of a daredevil. He was most likely the one that had thrown the orange at the door…at _me_.  
"Don't worry about me, Finch, I'll be fine…" he said to the older man.  
"You just don't know when to quit, Phil." The oldest stated in a deadpan tone.  
The oldest Researcher of the three had to be at least fifty. His appearance had reminded me of someone who had been in the military for countless years, old and battered. He almost seemed sad, even now, on New Year's Eve. His hair was short, grey and thinning; his eyes were a dull green.  
The third man, whom appeared to be several years older than me, was still chuckling a bit.  
"Sorry about him." The third said, rising from his seat and walking over to greet me. "He just seems to never get tired of embarrassing himself."  
It was rather odd, the way myself and he seemed to overlap. We both possessed the same shade of black hair, and we both had blue eyes, though mine were far darker than his. He moved with an aristocratic grace that I could not accurately describe.  
"It's no problem, really." I smiled. "The name's Jonathan Hartnett, I've just been hired."  
"We know. We received the memo about a week ago. Welcome to the team."  
"I'll be working alongside you three, then?" I glanced at Phil for a moment, wondering briefly what the Hell I had gotten myself into.  
"Including Hutchinson and Morioka, yes. Oh, and my name is Michael Schvinski, forgive me." He replied.  
We shook hands.  
"The fool over there…" Michael motioned to Phil. "…is Philip Osipher. Don't let his personality fool you though, he's actually quite brilliant."  
Phil waved very casually.  
"And that would be Jason Finch." Michael concluded, looking at the older man, who flashed an amiable smile.

Only a moment later, a soldier walked through the open door of the laboratory lounge. It was the young blonde from before that had taken my belongings to my room.  
"Your room is ready." He told me. I nodded, and thanked him.  
Almost immediately, Phil, Jason and Michael all agreed that it was time to get some rest. They left the room as it was, except for Jason switching off the radio while commenting on how much he loved the sound of Sinatra.  
The soldier led me to my room, which was located in a dormitory behind the mansion itself. Of course, this meant walking through the rain once more, but I was beyond caring about that. Michael teased Phil about his antics throughout the entire walk.

I was far too tired to even notice what my room actually looked like; I only saw the bed in the corner and collapsed upon it. Nothing seemed unusual until I heard the first verse of "Someone To Watch Over Me" sounding through the wall next to my bed. I remembered that as a child, my mother had loved that song.  
Finch and his Sinatra…


	2. January: When The Pianist Trembled

**2. January**

**January 1****st****, 1998**

My first day on the job had gone by slowly, for it consisted mostly of paperwork, and signing typed reports in the lab. My lab coat fit me well.  
I remembered that morning, how I had awoken to the sight of four unfamiliar walls, plain and unappealing, until I finally recalled the night before, and my reason for being here to begin with. I had stood, gone over to my suitcases to change, and discovered that my cell phone had gone missing. Had I left in my car perhaps? Well, if I had, it was long gone by now. God only knows where they took it. Though I could have sword that I had packed it away…  
"Jonathan?" I heard Jason say, the sound of his voice breaking my mind away from its reverie.  
"Yes?"  
"The rest of the team is here to meet you." He motioned to a man and a woman standing beside him.  
The man was of average height, and clearly of Asian heritage. His eyes were a warm cocoa color, and he did not look as though he smiled often. He was most likely in his early forties. "This is Christopher Morioka. I guess you could say that he's in charge around here. Well, in charge of us, anyway."  
Christopher nodded as a greeting, so I did the same.  
"And this is Mary Hutchinson."  
Mary was a tall, lithe African-American woman in her early thirties, with a gorgeous profile, high cheekbones and defined features. Her coal black hair was drawn back in a tight bun, and the light that shined upon her cheeks made her dark brown eyes sparkle. She, too, seemed very serious and scrupulous. However, she gave me a warm smile when I greeted her with a simple 'hello'.  
"Mary has quite the green thumb." Jason added, and Mary seemed to be a bit bashful. "You should see how well she handles the gardens."  
"Oh, hush." Mary voiced, politely informing Jason that enough was enough.

It was true. Later that day, I found her tending to some potted hydrangeas that the researchers apparently used often as test subjects. Irises, geraniums, and even ivy were flourishing next to a large fountain that rested in the center of the room. The room was outside of the laboratory, but the lab was reserved mostly for the more formal experiments, and research overall, anyway.  
"What do they use them as test subjects for?" I enquired.  
She didn't look at me as she was still watering, however, she answered with, "You'll see soon enough."

**January 3****rd****, 1998  
**  
Before I arrived at the Spencer Estate, I had known that I would be responsible for aiding in the development of biological weaponry. Of course I had known, it was my job, after all. However, nothing could have prepared me for what I had found beneath the mansion.  
Yesterday, Phil pulled me aside while I was walking back to my room after a long day of filling out even more paperwork. He led me to a room in which I was shocked to see a creature behind a thick glass wall staring back at me with cold, glassy black eyes. It had an appearance similar to that of a skinned gorilla, yet its murky, dark brown skin reflected the white light with an eerie darkness. My God, was it a human? It looked as though it was shivering uncontrollably, and was lunging at the dividing glass every few seconds.  
Phil brought out a clipboard with a sheet of paper on it. He then glanced at me, only long enough to see the sheer terror on my face, before he choked out the words "We need to fill out the report…"

**January 8****th****, 1998**

Most of the time, the days played out in the same fashion. The morning began with spending time in the lounge, then filling out paperwork and reports. The afternoon consisted of tests and even more reports. Jason made dinner for us every night, but I didn't complain at all. He'd made chicken parmesan the night before, and I had to admit that he was one hell of a cook.  
All of us were expected to work at least twelve hours a day, but even after that, our team and many more of the researchers remained awake, either playing poker (which I heard Michael was exceptionally good at) in the lounge, or pursuing our own research projects.  
However, today was very strange.  
We began working the second we awoke. Everything seemed hurried and rushed. And then I saw the thing that would come to bring me so much misery.  
A sample of the T-virus.  
"So, this is the heart of our work?" I asked Phil.  
He nodded. "It has the ability to mutate the cells of just about any living thing." He added.  
"Mutate?"  
"You'll see. Follow me."  
I followed him, until we reached a table with a microscope resting on its surface. After preparing to view it, I looked through the lens. I noticed several human cells, and the cells of the virus. In a matter of seconds, they had fused together, twisting, mutating the human cells into something else.  
The heart of our work.  
"Incredible…" I remarked.  
"This is basically the vital piece of our study here." Phil began. "With it, Spencer will be able to revolutionize biological warfare. And do God knows what else. The possibilities are endless."

**January 13****th****, 1998  
**  
A man was killed today, by the same creature that I had seen before while with Phil that one day in the lab. The keeper had apparently gotten too close to it, and the thing just snapped…The poor guy didn't even stand a chance. Some of the blood stains were still there.  
But we all went to work as usual, we had no other choice.  
While we were in the lab, Christopher strolled in with an apoplectic Mary storming in right behind him.  
"You're allowing that thing to remain alive!?" She shouted at him, speaking of the dark-skinned creature.  
"What else am I supposed to do? Shoot it? I can't do that, Hutchinson!" He retorted coldly.  
"It _killed_ Louie!"  
"Then he died for the sake of progress!"  
There was a tense silence then. Jason and I were mere spectators as we watched Mary slap Christopher, leaving a stinging red mark on his cheek, and then walk angrily out of the lab.  
We still stared at Christopher, who then glared at us both and trudged off to God knows where.

I found Mary in the garden.  
"You knew him? The man who was killed?"  
She nodded. "I knew him well enough to care about whether or not he died."  
"I see." I replied, not knowing what else to say.  
What else _could_ one say?

**January 17****th****, 1998**

We had an incredible breakthrough in our research today. One of the keepers came rushing over to the lab this morning, explaining to us that one of the creatures that had "died" had suddenly come back to life. This specimen –at one point- had definitely been a human.  
Jason and I accompanied the man back to the room in which the specimen was being kept, and I took notes of its behavior. I noticed that it was far more aggressive than the other creature I had seen over a week before.  
"It's never acted like this", the keeper said.  
"You said that it had been dead before?" Jason asked.  
"Yeah, but we didn't dispose of it. Morioka told us not to."  
"Maybe it was only unconscious?" I considered aloud.  
We continued observing the specimen, which had a slight reddish hue to its complexion. It released several shrill cries, glaring at us from behind the glass with hateful eyes.  
"I think I may understand." I began. "The virus has rapidly reconstructed the specimen's body composition during unconsciousness. So, basically, when any specimen loses consciousness, it enters a dormant state, allowing the virus to completely take over."  
They both looked at me, with amazement or confusion; I was not able to tell which.  
"Well…" I added. "It's only a theory…"  
"What does this result in?" Jason inquired.  
"A far more aggressive, far more agile specimen." I answered. "Furthering this study could prove very dangerous."  
"We'll need some tests to prove this theory." Jason began. "Until then, don't worry about it, kid."

We returned to the lounge, and it was then when I realized how much of a flirt Jason truly was. There were plenty of female scientists for him to chase after, so I left him to his sport, for I noticed Phil standing in the corner. I walked over to him.  
"What are you doing over here?" I asked.  
He didn't answer at first.  
"Phil? What are you doing?"  
"If you were to pull a prank, what would you do?" He suddenly questioned.  
"What? What sort of question is that?"  
"Michael and I are at war! Can't you tell?" He made it seem as though I were oblivious.  
"…A prank war? You can be so immature, you know that?"  
"So? That's why you people love me." He smiled.  
I shook my head. "Only you…"  
Just then, Morioka walked into the lounge. Everyone froze. Most stared at him blankly, while a few brave souls among us had enough courage to look at him in loathing. It was true, we all despised the man. But he didn't give a damn; he didn't care about anyone other than himself. What a mean-spirited snob he was.  
Jason lit a cigarette, and everyone resumed what they were previously doing.

**January 22****nd****, 1998**

Enough evidence has finally been gathered to prove my theory correct. The eighteenth of this month was a tragic day, as four researchers were killed while trying to feed one of these monsters that we have come to call "Crimson Heads" due to this event. After the attack, the place was a blood bath…  
Since it was my mind that spawned the theory to begin with; I was responsible for writing the V-ACT report. Luckily, it only took me about twenty minutes to complete.

I remember asking Jason about viral research, and how he had only one thing to tell me. He had come to call it the Pianist Theory…for if even one note was played incorrectly, the entire chord would fall apart. ****


	3. February: Upon The Farthest Shore

**3. February**

**February 1st, 1998**

"It's so beautiful here..." she spoke with a voice like velvet. "This moment now..."  
I was lying on my side, just as she was, and we were staring into each other's eyes as though we were lovers; my lab coat soaked with blood, although I could not tell whether it was my own.  
Her long auburn hair was falling around me and the flowers upon which we rested. I had never seen anything like them before...a bright yellow that seemed to let off a lime green illumination, mixed with a deep, almost-red shade of pink. The sky seemed nonexistent, for only a thick cover of mist lingered above our heads.  
She brought her knees to her chest, crossing her arms over them.  
"What are you thinking of?" She asked, yet did not seem to wait for an answer. I could not speak, despite the fact that all sounds seemed to be amplified here. A whisper seemed to be normal for conversation; a shout, a bloodcurdling cry.  
She closed her eyes, as if all creation was more than she could accept.

"Damnit, Jon, wake up!" I heard Phil shout as he shook me awake.  
My eyelids peeled open just in time to see an apparent wave of relief wash over his face. My hands were coated in a cold sweat.  
"...Phil?" I asked nervously. "What's wrong?"  
"I just spent the last two minutes shaking you, trying to get you to wake up, and you ask me what's wrong? Jesus Christ, Jon, I thought you were dead!"  
"What? What time is it?"  
"I'm not sure exactly what time it is. But you were late for work, so I came in to check on you." He replied. "You alright?  
"Yeah, I must have just been in a pretty deep sleep, sorry. Weird dream, too." I sat up, stretching.  
"Well, get ready, okay? I'll see you in the lab." He left me to get dressed, walking out the door and glancing back once before closing it behind him.  
I stood up, a bit shaken from my rather rude awakening. The dream remained, flashing through my mind again and again like a film. A woman whom I had never met lying beside me, whispering as though she were telling me the secrets of the world. I dressed, eager to get this strange -yet beautiful- woman away from my thoughts.

Michael looked away from his papers as I walked into the lounge.  
"You okay, Jon? Phil told me you weren't feeling well."  
"Yeah, I'm fine." I answered. Michael seemed satisfied with my reply, and his gaze returned to his reports.  
"Eggs are up." Jason suddenly said, standing in front of the range in the corner of the room.

**February 3rd, 1998**

I'd been told that February was a slow month around the lab, but damn, that guy was wrong.  
Lately, everyone seemed to be working on something important. Mary had been especially focused on her project, and when I asked her about it, she told me that it involved the plants she'd been tending to the past two years. This immediately piqued my curiosity. How in the world could the plants she'd been looking after be used as weapons?  
Later in the day, Mary, Jason, Phil and I entered the lab. Mary was holding a potted flower that appeared foreign, and I quickly procured a syringe, filling it with a sample of our developed virus. She placed the flower on a steel table, and we all gathered around.  
"Ready?" she asked, glancing at the syringe in my hand. "And for God's sake, be careful with that."  
I didn't respond, unsure of whether she was concerned for my safety or the safety of the sample. I placed my left hand upon the plant pot, keeping it still as I placed the needle of the syringe directly into the stem and pressed down the plunger.  
For the first minute, nothing happened. Jason quickly became bored, and lit a cigarette.  
"Jason!" Mary snapped.  
"What?" He moaned.  
"This is a formal experiment!"  
Jason rolled his eyes as Phil laughed.  
We all soon departed, save for Mary, however. She remained to take notes and begin her report on how the T-virus had affected the plant thus far.  
Such a perfectionist…

**February 6th, 1998**

Her head rested on my shoulder as she dreamed through the noise echoing throughout the train terminal. The bench beneath us was wooden and cold, and suddenly, she stirred as a train rushed past in a whir of color and light. The air blew directly onto my skin, warm with a subtle scent of oil. She awoke then with a small smile on her face, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.  
"Where are you going?" she asked me in a strangely familiar voice. Every second after that seemed like a century.  
"To work" I replied.  
"When will you be back?"  
"I don't know..." I began. "I don't know when I'll be back..."  
"But you will be back?"  
I wanted to answer her, to reassure her that everything would be alright. That I would never forget her...

I awoke, staring blankly at the ceiling above me. The dream had not been the same, yet the woman was; a dancer's body and an angel's voice.

**February 8th, 1998**

Michael and I were sitting in the lounge when I commented on how my cell phone had gone missing the month before. We had been talking about family, and why we hadn't spoken to them in such a length of time.  
"You don't know?" he asked me, cocking an eyebrow.  
I shook my head, and he sighed.  
"They destroy any link you have to the outside world the moment you step foot in this place. Hell, they even destroy your car."  
"What?" I couldn't call my family, and I wasn't allowed to leave? "Why the car?"  
"They don't want anyone to be able to identify the people working here."  
"I thought that was why we were in the mountains, for God's sake."  
He shrugged. "Umbrella doesn't take chances."

**February 13th, 1998**

When Mary dragged me into the lab, my first thought was that something had gone terribly wrong with our experiment that took place a little over a week before. However, she appeared proud, ecstatic even.  
"Look, Jon!" She said, looking at me, then the huge plant that still rested on the steel table in the center of the room. Its stem and roots were throbbing violently, more alive than ever before.  
"My God..." I began. "Is it dangerous?"  
"Not as far as I can tell." She replied. "But it's grown to more than five times its original size. We'll have to move it to a new location soon."  
"Why? Shouldn't this room be large enough to contain it?"  
She looked at me then. "It isn't dangerous yet," she began. "But it could become deadly at any time."  
"I see" I stated. "I see."

**February 17th, 1998**

"It's my own personal work" Phil announced to me proudly. "It's not much now, obviously…but it'll be revolutionary in good time, I assure you."  
I stared at the result of his work; a tall cylinder that stretched from the floor to the ceiling, filled with a blue hued liquid that appeared to be bubbling at the base. The room we were in was rather secluded, located in a part of the lab that was rarely visited.  
"But, it's empty…" I stated hesitantly, somewhat confused.  
"That's just how it appears, my friend." He grinned, blatantly eager to tell me more.  
"What do you mean?"  
"Within that chamber is a microscopic cell, Jon. The liquid around it is an enormous quantity of the T-virus. " He explained.  
"So, what are you trying to do? We already know how the virus affects cells, Phil."  
"You'll see." Phil said plainly. "Anything is possible in this place, even creating life."  
"Creating…life?" I asked, baffled.  
"Like I said" he concluded. "You'll see."

At the end of the day, we were all surprised to find a piece of poetry written on a pocket notepad on the lounge table. The handwriting was barely legible, as if someone had written it in great haste. We could only assume that it was the work of Michael, whom I discovered then, was an avid fan of poetry, and often enjoyed composing some of his own in his free time.

_The answer and analogy_

_Lies upon the farthest shore_

_But a storm shall bring it closer_

_Than it's ever been before_

…_**But a storm shall bring it closer**_

_**Than it's ever been before…**_


	4. March: Never Forgotten

**4. March**

**March 2****nd****, 1998**

One of the strangest –and perhaps one of the most disturbing- things occurred today. Oddly enough, it had absolutely nothing to do with my research, but with my fellow scientists.  
I had just woken up when I stumbled out of my room, dressed but half-awake, all the way to what I thought was the door of the lounge. It was odd because I heard voices on the other side of the door, so naturally, I opened it.  
It took me several seconds to realize that my good friend Michael appeared to be –pardon my choice of words- sucking Mary's face off.  
He suddenly stopped and looked at me like a deer in the headlights, his eyes seeming to become as large as dinner plates. Poor Mary, she was mortified.  
"Hey…Jon!" Michael said in a friendly tone, which I knew would soon turn into some sentence involving "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours." He walked out of what I then realized was one of the lab's many maintenance closets, and put his arm around my shoulders, leading me away from Mary, who soon darted away from us. "You don't have to mention this to Morioka, you know?"  
"Why would I? Your dirty secret is safe with me, Mike." I replied.  
"Don't say it like that!"  
"But it's the truth." I said, obviously jesting.  
He took his arm away from me and looked me straight in the eye.  
"Please…" He said very seriously. "Don't mention this to anyone?"  
I nodded, understanding.

"No way! Mike was making out with Mary!?" Phil exclaimed loudly with a mouth full of oatmeal at breakfast. He then stared at me for a brief moment. "Man, you _suck_ at keeping secrets, Jon."  
I sighed. "It just came out…"  
"Don't worry" Phil added. "I won't tell anyone else."

Later that day, whilst I was walking back to my room, I found myself and Jason were traveling in the same direction.  
"So" Jason began. "I heard about the lovebirds in the maintenance closet this morning."  
"Oh, yeah" I said. "Wait…who told you about that?"  
"Phil. Who else?"  
I stopped, dumbfounded, in the middle of the hallway. But Jason, not seeming to care, continued walking onward.  
_Damnit, Phil…  
_It was that day I had learned that Phil was notorious for his troublemaking and surreptitious ways (Even if he didn't _steal_…) Despite this, he acted like an innocent child. What strange behavior for a scientist.

**March 4****th****, 1998**

I've experienced the same dreams again and again for days now. And I am quite sure I have never seen the woman that seems to be at the center of them all.  
I've grown tired of this redundant schedule that I must live by every single day…and I long to be in contact with my family. Though I am not married, and I have no children, my parents and sisters are still very important to me. I cannot believe that the higher-ups will not even allow us Researchers to _call _our loved ones once in a while, to let them know that we are alright.  
While speaking about the matter with Phil, he enlightened me on the lives of my fellow Scientists.  
"Well, I'm not married, either. But there is a pretty girl that I would like to ask out some time." He continued. "Mary and Michael are both single, obviously…" chuckling, he went on. "Jason is in that awkward state of being divorced with two kids. From what I've heard, though, the Mrs. was a hellcat. Good kids, though…"  
"What about Morioka?" I asked, curious.  
"You know, I'm not really sure. He doesn't talk much. Not to us, not to anyone."  
"That's strange."

**March 8****th****, 1998**

"Jon, follow me." Phil whispered, suddenly beginning to pull me along. I wasn't sure what time of day it was anymore. I had lost track hours ago.  
"What is it?" I asked.  
"My research, you fool! What else?"  
"Of course, I apologize."  
Phil and I had become very good friends lately, and quite honestly, I was very interested in his research. Yet his eagerness was rather unsettling.

When we arrived at his work area, I immediately looked over at the large cylinder that was filled to the brim with the T-virus. What was once a single cell that had been unseen was now the size of my fist.  
"I hope you're careful in here." I began. "That large an amount of the T-virus is deadly."  
"I know. You don't have to worry about me, I know what I'm doing" He said, walking over to a desk in the far corner of the room and then returning with a notepad and pen.  
I remember that it was eerily quiet in that room. Only the soft sound of the bubbling tank before me reached my ears when no words were being spoken.  
"You haven't told me what you're trying to do." I stated plainly, growing slightly suspicious.  
"Yes I have." He replied.  
That was right. …_Even creating life…_  
"What sort of life?" I asked.  
"Human life."

**March 11****th****, 1998**

I remember that afternoon clearly. The hands on the clock had moved so slowly… and now, Phil was only minutes away from dying.

It had all started out normally enough. Another day in the lab, that was all. Then, after about a half hour spent in the lounge, Mary strolled in, informing Phil and I that we were needed in the lab. Naturally, we went.

We arrived several minutes later in the large white room where another strange creature was being kept. It was resting several meters behind the thick glass observation window, its eyes still open and gleaming like pieces of coal. It resembled a toad with mutated human legs, but after what I had already seen in this facility, I was no longer surprised.  
Morioka and another man whom I did not recognize were standing in the corner when they noticed our arrival.  
"Oh, good, you're here." Morioka said plainly. "This thing has been causing us some worry."  
The stranger spoke next. "It hasn't been eating anything. We believe it to be dead."  
"What would you have us do?" I asked.  
I would have never guessed that Phil would be within the reach of death in the next five minutes. I had known it would be extremely risky, yet I played along anyway…  
"We need someone to retrieve a blood sample. But the Keepers aren't trained well enough to take care of this sort of thing" the stranger replied.  
"Are you kidding me?" Phil suddenly cut in. "That's practically suicide! What if that thing _isn't _dead?"  
Morioka stared him down for a moment before replying. "Then Umbrella would only lose a single worthless Researcher, Mr. Osipher. This is part of your job, and if you refuse to do your job, then I will have no choice but to report you to the higher-ups."  
Silence ensued before Phil and I reluctantly agreed.  
"Why do you need a blood sample, anyway?" I inquired.  
"So that we will be able to discover what went wrong."

With gun in hand, Phil and I made our way toward the back door of the creature's enclosure. Slowly, I opened the door, and Phil walked in ahead of me. We could see Morioka and the stranger staring at us from behind the glass. What cowards…  
"Ready?" I asked Phil, who seemed eager to get it over with.  
He nodded, hesitantly. I did not blame him; I was frightened beyond imagination as well.  
Phil made his way across the room very slowly, never taking his eyes off of the toad like creature. He dared not look back.  
My fingers danced over the trigger what seemed to be a thousand times, my gaze never leaving Phil's back.  
Phil was now approaching the motionless creature. His hands beginning to shake, clutching a single syringe.  
And then the creature's coal-like eyes widened, revealing its true state.  
I had no time to warn my best friend before death lunged at him, grasping his shoulders like prey with its massive claws.  
My memory grows clouded here. For I only recall pulling the trigger once. However, two bullets were fired.  
The first struck the coal-eyed creature directly in between the eyes.  
It fell to the ground, writhing and screeching like a fallen demon. It did not rise, and soon fell into a cold silence.  
The location of the second was revealed to me when Phil turned to look at me, and then collapsed to the ground. Blood began to pool around his chest almost instantly.

In less than two minutes, Phil was lying on a stretcher, quickly being rolled through the halls of the Arklay laboratory. My hands were covered in sweat, nothing but guilt filling my mind. His blue eyes were still half-open. They seemed to recall a tragic memory or a faded sky on a winter day. Would I be the one to end the light in those eyes?  
Before I even realized it, Mary stopped me in my tracks.  
"Wait here, Jon." Mary commanded, blocking my path.  
I pointed after Phil weakly. "But…I…"  
"Just wait here!"  
I did so, no longer possessing the will to move my own two feet.  
I watched in disbelief as Phil was hurried to the helicopter pad, wondering if I had just murdered my closest friend.

**March 17****th****, 1998**

For days I had wallowed in my own guilt, anxiously awaiting news of Phil's condition. Mary was the one to finally ease my worry the slightest degree.  
Phil was alive; in serious condition, but alive. He was in a hospital over in Raccoon City.  
Michael soon came to see me about what had happened.  
"Morioka told me that it was only an accident." Michael began. "That is what happened, right?"  
I nodded. It was the truth.

**March 23****rd****, 1998**

Today, after a long day of work, I stopped by Phil's quiet section of the laboratory. The cell had grown even larger, now about the size of a watermelon.  
I walked over to his desk in the corner, where I had seen him pick up a notepad before. I stared at the notes, fascinated with every detail.  
Soon enough, I had found that I'd picked up the entire notebook, and walked out, my mind heavy with wonder.

_Whether you live or die, Philip…your work will never be forgotten. I promise you this much._


	5. April: Catherine

**5. April**

**April 3****rd****, 1998**

After the incident involving Phil in the lab, everyone seems to be sullen lately. Nothing seems to be the same except for the work, and the only new thought spreading amongst us is, "What if I'm next?"  
Overall, dread separates us from our sense of wonder when it comes to our chosen profession.

I've been newly assigned to the Aqua Ring, which I trudged my way to on this morning. When I arrived, my path included a platform that led over the ring, and upon crossing it, I looked down.  
"…My God…" I muttered under my breath. A large, dark grey form moved swiftly beneath me. It was a massive Great White.  
"Incredible, isn't it?" Spoke an approaching woman's voice. I instinctively turned toward it, seeing a slender and dark-haired woman standing beside me. Her eyes were her most distinctive feature, for they were a lovely hue of dark brown and shaped like almonds.  
I nodded.  
"It can be quite aggressive, but it seems to be unprovoked right now." She said, her thick Czech accent making her all the more interesting to listen to. "It is very capricious, you understand?"  
"What do you mean?"  
"It becomes very aggressive for no reason at all most of the time. That is the virus' effect on this animal."  
I understood. "Is that the only effect?"  
"No" she responded. "There is one other effect. Like a Bull Shark, these two Great Whites are now able to survive in fresh water."  
"I see." I took a step back from the railing.  
"A local environmental group took samples about a week ago. They reported that there is a high level of toxins in the local water…" she began. "We need to be more discreet. I hope that Umbrella realizes that."  
"Does that have anything to do with these sharks?"  
"I'm not sure. It could be possible that there is or was some sort of leak."

**April 7****th****, 1998**

I went back to Phil's section of the lab this afternoon. It's still eerily quiet there, though it may just be my awareness of his absence.  
When I glanced at the cylinder, I fell back onto the floor in shock. At first, I panicked, my mind racing with what I knew would most likely happen. At last, I finally gained the courage and sanity to react. I scrambled to my feet and ran over to the desk in the corner, picking up the chair and then swiftly swinging it into the glass cylinder. The glass shattered, and the form of a human woman fell to the floor.

She came to instantly, and so I rushed over to assist her. While sitting up she seemed to discover the extent of her own nakedness.  
"Are you alright!?" I blurted.  
"I'm fine…" she replied.  
She was able to speak…and if that were not incredible enough, she spoke the same language as I.  
She was very thin, petite, and had waist-length brown hair. Due to her gentle appearance, I would have never expected the following sentence to come out of her mouth.  
"Who the Hell are you?"  
I cocked an eyebrow.

**April 11****th****, 1998**

Her name is Catherine. Or at least that is what she has told me.  
I told no one of her for I do not trust anyone but myself with this information. I've dedicated hours upon hours of my free time to continue taking notes on her behavior and how she even came to be. However, she seems to be quite a normal woman. I've given her several of my shirts that no longer fit me (I seem to have lost some weight under the restricted diet we have here), and she seems to be even more intelligent than myself. Last night, she was explaining the history of the Third Crusade to me.  
She understands the way of the world, is a whiz at trigonometry, and demands that I fetch her some decent clothing. As she keeps insisting, I find I may have to tell Mary about Catherine soon.

**April 14****th****, 1998**

I decided that since Catherine refused to answer any more questions unless I get her different clothes, I would have to tell Mary. And thus, I did.  
When I quietly told Mary while we were in the lounge, she stared at me in slight anger.  
"Why didn't you tell anyone else about his research!?" she hissed. "It wasn't your place to take over!"  
"You're right, Mary, I should have told Morioka, but you know how he treated Phil! I know that he would have treated his research the exact same way. I did it as a favor to a friend!"  
"Why _did _you tell me this anyway?" she asked, regaining her composure.  
"She needs some real clothes. I feel terrible…and she acts just like my grandmother." I replied.  
"She's quiet?"  
"No! She's a bitch!"  
"Alright, alright…" Mary said. "I'll give you an outfit or two, on one condition."  
"You want to help with Catherine?"  
"If that's the woman's name, then yes."  
I nodded, knowing that I would have needed someone's help sooner or later.

**April 17****th****, 1998**

Catherine is the woman that was in my dreams. I know it for sure. She moves with the same gait, speaks with the same voice…the only thing I can't believe is that I didn't realize it any sooner.  
"How do you know your name is Catherine?" I asked her.  
"It's something I just know; Catherine, as in Catherine the Great."  
I flipped through Phil's notes, looking for an answer. Who had she been based off of?  
And then I found it.  
On the fifty-first page of Phil's handwritten notes, I discovered that Catherine had been created to be identical to his sister, Caryn. She had died recently of leukemia.  
"What is it, Jon?" Mary asked.  
I handed her the notebook, and she read over the paragraph I pointed to.  
_  
Why was she in my dreams…?_

**April 24****th****, 1998**

Today, Michael and I spoke for the first time in what seemed like ages. Nothing had really changed between us, though. We were still friends.  
"So, where are you assigned now?" I questioned.  
"The Aqua Ring" he replied, sipping his coffee out of a clean white mug.  
"As am I! So I guess I won't have to be bored all day after all. I mean, don't get me wrong, Sasha is alright, but it'll be nice to see a familiar face."  
"Yeah, I know what you mean." He smiled, which was one of the first smiles I had seen in almost a month. And now, I wonder how long it will be until I see another, or even if I ever will.  
All I wish is to go home.


	6. May: Where I've Left My Heart

**6. May**

**May 11****th****, 1998**

The moment I had awoken, I could sense that something was not quite right; though I couldn't identify which of my senses had detected the oddity to begin with. In my dreams, there had only been a sheet of plain off-white, as if it were an unmarked canvas. Such nothingness was strange to me…  
Why did my heart now so suddenly feel as if it had descended a thousand miles into a depth I would never come to witness? I had felt it once before, and yet, I thought it had at last passed over me in abject mercy.  
Perhaps it was the yearning for the familiarity of a certain woman's arms, or the comfort of home. However, as I glanced about at the four walls surrounding me, I knew that this was all I knew of familiarity at the present; this dreary place which the clashes of thunder never reached, and yet in which one could clearly glimpse the first rings of Hell.  
And home…as it was Hell, it was my home. It was where I rested, where I ate, where I conversed in talk of possibility and of tragedy. It was the center of all I currently knew…the place in which I first arrived, my nerves prancing in ethereal fluidity.  
Where I had met two people that would change my life indefinitely, and others whom I would witness lose their own.

"Are you finally awake, Jon?" Michael asked, suddenly standing in the doorway. I sat up, no longer surprised when it came to the short-notice appearances of my colleagues.  
"Yes, why are you-…what in God's green earth are you wearing, Mike!?" I raised my voice in alarm, for my good friend was dressed in a full-fledged bio suit.  
"You know what it is," Michael sighed. "Here's one for you, too. Put it on as soon as possible." He said this as he tossed one identical to his own onto the open space beside me on the bed. Between us passed several fleeting moments, which I then repaired by speaking once again.  
"But…why?" I exchanged glances between the suit and his face, which was slightly veiled behind a curved sheet of glass.  
"There's been an incident." He said, and as I recall, plainly. "I know little else."

**May 13****th****, 1998**

For the first two days of this infernal ignorance of ours, not a single mouth was still. Work had been put on an indefinite hold, while we were all worried and frustrated that we had not even an idea of what was going on. And yet today, no one has spoken for hours. The only concern is the magnitude of this "incident". Perhaps speech has given way to mere imagination.  
I couldn't help but fascinate myself by wondering which of us were simply dreaming up excuses for all of this, making it seem so much less frightening than it truly was; or those whom were picturing the worst case scenario in their minds…  
I must make use of my time. Visiting Catherine will be sure to settle my mind into a more quiet state.

**May 14****th****, 1998**

Just as I had trudged into the lab area where Catherine had remained, I felt her grasp settle upon me.  
"At last, Jon, at last!" she shouted in relief, her frame trembling.  
"Hush, Catherine! They'll hear you!" I attempted to quiet her, but it was in vain; she refused to obey my words.  
"You must leave this place, Jon!" she continued on. "Something horrible is going to happen very soon, I can sense it!"  
"Catherine..."  
"Please, you must believe me!" Her voice shook as tears began to roll down her cheeks, leaving stinging red trails in their wake.  
I could not fully understand the emotion that was wracking her body, and her hand was still clasped around a fold of fabric from my lab coat as though for dear life. For a moment, I possessed the slightest desire to stroke her hair, and to console her. To see such gentle features lined in pain broke my heart.  
"What do you mean to say?" I asked her, in an almost angered tone. "Are we in danger?"  
"Yes…I believe so…"  
"What will happen?" My voice, for some reason, was emitted as bitter.  
"I don't know," Catherine replied.  
As the minutes of silence after this began to grow, I considered again and again simply walking out of the room, through the countless halls, ascending the stairs…and leaving this mansion behind forever.  
I sighed, wishing that I could, but knowing that I could not.

**May 15****th****, 1998**

Michael has gone missing. No one has seen him since yesterday.  
I admit, I am worrying constantly about him. Besides Philip, he is my closest friend.  
I am still able to recall the first night we met, on which I had known we would become good friends over the months, and perhaps even years, that I would be spending at the Arklay Estate. Perhaps it was because he reminded me of myself?  
I pray he is alright…


	7. The Archangel Michael

**The Archangel Michael**

**May 15****th****, 1998 – 10:01 PM  
POV: Michael**

Glancing out of the dining room's window, I remember that for only a moment I'd thought of the night as being tender. Yet I was still here, beaten and broken. Only a day ago, I had been going about my work, studying the new and reviewing the old, hoping to further both my studies and our cause. And now, here I was. The main dining room, which had always seemed so grand, now only filled me with a sense of fear that I had never experienced since the incident involving Phil occurred.  
At this time, for some reason, I recalled something from my childhood. Before I was born, my mother had suffered often from depression caused by fear such as this…though her fears went unjustified. After she had given birth to me, she had named me Michael, for her belief in the Archangel Michael was always able to conquer her sorrow.

"Mr. Shvinski, is it?" The General asked crudely. He was dressed in his full military uniform, and was the only other being in the room with me. As if to intimidate me, he sat directly across from me, beside the fireplace.  
I nodded, too exhausted to speak as a small amount of blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. I had the slightest urge to spit it out, onto his face.  
"I see." He began. "Well, sir. I hope you realize that you've gotten yourself into a heap of trouble." His voice was tinged in both boredom and foreboding. I did not know what to think.  
"I have done nothing!" I replied in a shrill whisper. "You have the wrong man…"  
The General shook his large head, "Don't lie to me, Mr. Schvinski."  
"You and your people have been torturing me for hours…" I said. "And I have confessed to nothing because I have done _nothing!_" Oh, how I wished I could yell. But I could not, and thus I had to resort to slamming my fist on the table.  
"There is no need for you to deny anything, sir."  
"My freedom and wellbeing are in the balance, I have a need to deny everything." I retorted.  
"There is no need to deny anything…" he continued, "Because we have proof."  
"Proof…?" I froze. "But…how…? I have done nothing…"  
A single tear rolled down my cheek as the General rested a stack of papers of the table, and slowly pushed them over to me. My hands trembling, I undid the bindings and began to read the first.  
I could hardly believe what I was seeing. I dropped the first, and quickly switched to the second, the third, the fourth, and then the fifth…fifteen minutes passed before anything was said.  
They were letters, and their content made me shudder in disbelief…my name was signed at the bottom of each one.  
"You've been marketing the virus, sir. And we can't allow that."  
"But…I…" I stopped, knowing that it was no longer of any use. "What will happen to me?"  
"It will be decided the day after tomorrow." He stated plainly. "You'll be confined in your room until then."


	8. The Philosopher

**The Philosopher**

**May 16****th****, 1998  
12:09 AM  
POV: Phil**

Well, this is great. Just great.  
It feels like I've been stuck inside this friggin' hospital room for decades, doing nothing but watching Judge Judy and (as if I can escape it?) pissing myself. Sure, I'm recovering, but seriously, come on. The sheets are a bland white that isn't even interesting to think about, and the pillows are like gilded bricks. I stare at the walls and imagine paintings on them just to minimally satisfy my desires. Heck, even reading some of Mike's poetry wouldn't be so bad right now…even if he did tease me a lot, we were still good friends. I remember that he used to call me "the philosopher" because of the way my name is…you know, Phil Osipher? Makes sense.

Eh, well, at least the nurses are pretty, and I'm healing up pretty well. That one damn bullet caused a lot of damage, and at first, I did feel the slightest bit of spite toward Jon for it, but I forgave him really quickly. Besides, I don't _really _blame him. After all, if he hadn't fired that gun, I'd no doubt have been killed by that thing. I'm glad it's dead now...the damn thing was too smart to be used as a weapon, anyway.

What have I done that would make God want to punish me like this? I had always worked hard for ol' Spencer when it came to the virus! Then again, maybe it _was_ that. I mean, that sort of thing isn't exactly equivalent to working at a soup kitchen for hours on end. We all knew what it was probably going to be used for, but that had always seemed so far away, as if it would only happen in some place thousands of miles from where we rested our heads every night. But, yeah, we were wrong…and now here I am in a hospital bed. Whoop-dee-dee.

Without work, everything is so boring. I wish I could at least spice up my day by mixing a few chemicals around...but I guess we can't always have what we want, eh? (Well, that's not quite fair. Because I can't exactly remember the last time I ever got something I wanted.)

Who the Hell did Morioka think he was? Ordering me around like that…sure, I was afraid that he would complain of me to Spencer, and that would have been bad enough, but look where following his lead got me. I wonder why he was even put in charge of us to begin with, it's not like he's that much more intelligent than any of us. Mary or Jon would have been great supervisors.

Oh, yeah…Jon. I wonder if he's bored without me. I mean, there wasn't much that you could really call entertainment -without being a liar- at the mansion. All there really was…was, well, work. And speaking of work, mine was no doubt lost by now. Lost or ruined…Damnit. Even after all of that time trying to find a cure for Caryn's cancer, and the time spent trying to essentially recreate her…it's all been wasted. Hopefully, I'll be able to go back to the mansion soon, and restart my work. If not, I'll never be able to find a facility that will give me the vital pieces that I need for this to succeed.

Overall, I just want to get back to my daily routine. Back to my friends, my colleagues, my home, I guess. Which I think is definitely possible…I don't know why, but I feel like I'll be out of here soon.


	9. Xibalba

**Xibalba**

**May 16****th****, 1998  
4:51 AM  
POV: Jon**

I had no explanation for why yet another sleepless night unnerved me so. I had rested upon my bed, fully awake, attempting to will myself into some sort of forced slumber, and yet the entire universe seemed to be conspiring against me.  
Perhaps I was too busy fretting over my younger sister, whom had just become a senior in my old high school located at the center of a little town north of Bangor, Maine.  
Perhaps I was preoccupied with Catherine and her strange behavior; the way she had pleaded for me to listen to her…  
Or, perhaps, I was simply frustrated that I had no idea what would become of me over the upcoming weeks, months, years…  
I froze. Would I really be here that long? It just didn't seem possible, and yet I no longer knew what to believe. After all, it seems that in this world, creating one abomination is never satisfying enough. Man must continue to toy with nature's lack of disdain until it can manage to extract even the thinnest sliver of corruption. And so as my time wears on here, I have seen that the soil itself is pure, though we are the filth that stains it.

For about the hundredth time this year, I have heard the sound of Sinatra drifting through my wall. It seems that I am not the only one kept awake during the early hours of these spring mornings.  
I have spoken to Jason recently, and he tells me of his discovery that the days he awakens early are those upon which the sky is overcast and gray, like a gale at sea. Though we are rather far from the sea, I understand what he means to say.  
However, I regret to say that I have not been upstairs to see the sun since last month; thus there is no way I am able to test this theory.  
And so I remain…around me tools of abject evil and the echoes of my God shaming me for what I have done here.

**5:**43** AM**

After becoming sick of merely sitting around in my room, wallowing in thoughts and realizations that I would much rather avoid, I decided to pay a visit to Catherine.  
The halls were devoid both of those I would call friends and those I would call colleagues. With every step I took, it seemed as though my heart rate increased. I was not exactly sure why, but my guess would be that I still did not fully understand Catherine, and I still seemed to find her a bizarre curiosity. Either that, or I was scared to death of being caught.  
I glanced over my shoulder several times while traversing the halls to be sure that no one was following me, even though I had noticed no one. But I could not take any chances.

I slowly twisted the knob, entering the room in silence.  
"Good morning, Jon." Mary said, smiling, as I turned to face her.  
"Good morning." I replied. "You seem tired."  
"Catherine's kept me up for hours…" she began, her voice faltering off.  
Catherine looked at me with a blank gaze, and then turned her line of sight toward the floor.  
"What's wrong with her?" I asked.  
"She keeps telling me that something is going to happen, but she can't tell me what."  
"She was telling me the same thing." I replied.  
Mary's eyes widened. "Do you think it has anything to do with the accident that took place in the lab?"  
I paused, walking toward Catherine and kneeling down beside her.  
"Catherine?" I began, my voice gentle. "Can you tell me _anything_ about what's going to happen? Will it happen soon?"  
She looked at me, appearing a bit peeved, and then finally replied with, "It'll happen today."  
"How do you know, Catherine?" Mary asked, clearly becoming concerned. Her pupils had always grown much larger when she was worried about something.  
"How many times do I have to tell you, Jon!? I just _know!_"  
"Look at her. She's just like Phil," Mary remarked, somewhat sullenly.  
"Who?" Catherine asked angrily.  
"He's the one that created you, Catherine. But that doesn't matter right now. Please, tell me-"  
"I cannot tell you anything else!" Catherine screamed.  
"Catherine! Be quiet! Someone will hear you!" I demanded.  
She lowered her voice, but went on. "Trust me. You and I...I'll show you today. Come with me, before it begins."  
I thought about it for a moment, then thought it best to agree.  
"Alright" I replied. "I trust you."  
"We need to get her out of this room." Mary stated. "How?"  
"…You could give her your lab coat, Mary. Everyone down here recognizes you, they won't think twice, even if you're not wearing one. But they've never seen Catherine before, so if she's wearing it they'll think she's only a new Researcher."  
"True…alright, I'll do it." Mary took off her lab coat, revealing the dark black T-shirt underneath, as well as more of her pale blue jeans, and handed it to Catherine after ripping the ID tag off. "They won't notice the absence of the ID at first glance."

Only a minute after our conversation, I did not expect that my life would change forever.  
After walking down the halls, my mind almost completely focused on Catherine, I noticed that ahead of us, from the direction of the elevator, the young blonde soldier that had showed me to my room the first night of my arrival was staggering toward us.  
Mary was truly the first to act, she moved toward the boy, who was now beginning to slump and against the wall and slide to the floor, blood flowing from an unseen wound. I remained with Catherine, too afraid and unsure of the situation to do anything.  
"Are you…alright?" Mary began as she very cautiously moved toward the boy, who said nothing. Once she neared him, I took a step forward as well.  
Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he removed his hand from a wound on his left shoulder, shuddering. And then, he looked at me.  
His eyes were coal black.  
The soldier trembled, and lashed out at Mary, swinging his own arm as though it were a bat. He let out only a string of inhuman grunts.  
"Mary!" I exclaimed, grasping her arm and running past the now inhuman soldier that had little time to react.

As I continued along my path, I realized that the young soldier was not the only one. In every room that I passed, every corridor that I ran by, people were becoming savages, even feasting upon each other's flesh. At every sighting, I felt the need to hold back the bile that was willing itself to see the air in front of me.  
People that I had met, people that I had become acquainted with…even those that I had never met, but seen. They were all changed now. And based on what I knew from my time spent here, they were completely gone from this world.

**6:15 AM**

While the sun was rising, we had made it to the door of Michael's room. I knew nothing of where he had gone, or even whether or not he was still alive…but this was my last chance to see whether I could play even a small part in saving my good friend.  
Mary had become completely paranoid, backed up against the wall even though there was no one in this part of the Residence besides us. She was shaking violently, and tears were beginning to make their way down her cheeks. Catherine consoled her, strangely calm in the midst of this Hell.  
I knocked on the door very loudly. "Michael! Are you there!? You need to open the door! Something is happening that even I can't explain…but unless we leave now, we're all going to die!"  
No one answered me.  
"Michael! _Damnit!_ Open the God damn door!" I bellowed in an evident desperation.  
"Jon? Is that you?" Michael's voice sounded from the other side of the door, though slightly muffled.  
"Yes! Open the door, Mike!"  
"I can't Jon…I've been locked in. Someone's conspired against me."  
"But…" I froze.  
"Jon…we have to get out of here, _now!_" Catherine urged cruelly.  
"No!" Mary shouted angrily at Catherine. "We're not leaving him! We're not! Alright!?"  
"Are you insane?" Catherine questioned her. "There's no way we'll be able to get that door open."

I jumped back as a hand touched my shoulder. After I nearly leapt halfway across the hall, I realized that it was only Morioka.  
"Morioka…" I began. "What are you doing here? We all need to leave this place…"  
He didn't reply, but merely looked at me sullenly with bloodshot eyes. In his arms was a single shotgun.  
"What are you…?" Mary asked.  
Morioka reached into his pocket, and brought out a ring of keys. After shuffling through them, he chose a small brass one, and quite simply…unlocked the door of Michael's room. He then handed the shotgun to me, along with a handful of rounds.  
Before anything else could be said, he trudged off down the forsaken halls, trembling uncontrollably all the while.


	10. Solemn Hour

**Solemn Hour**

**May 16****th****, 1998  
6:20 AM  
POV: Mary**

The moment the door opened to reveal his figure, a wave of relief swept over me.  
We said nothing, at first. We merely looked at each other and smiled. You see, our affection for each other wasn't the sort that we flaunted or showed in public. That would seem indecent.  
The rumors had been true, though, of course. We'd been together several times, though we never even dared to hint at it (especially not around our colleagues). Morioka would've been furious if he'd found out, and no doubt both of us would've lost our jobs in a heartbeat. Then again, Morioka had seemed so distant and careless lately that if probably wouldn't have mattered either way.

"Are you three listening to me!?" Catherine asked sternly. "We need to leave this mansion!"  
"We can't, Catherine," Jon replied. The brunette gave him a cruel glare.  
"What are you talking about?" She questioned. "Everyone down there is already dead!"  
"What if you're wrong?" Michael suddenly began. "You're not a soothsayer, you're only a person."  
Catherine didn't reply. For all the time we'd known her, we'd practically treated her like she was a prophet. This was the first time someone had ever even remotely spoken down to her. However, she soon exhaled, and continued on.  
"I know that everyone down there is dead." Catherine repeated.  
"How?" My voice cut in.  
"Because that light hum of the elevator has stopped, and the floor shook beneath me when the iron gates in front of the staircases were closed ten minutes ago."  
"You sick bitch…" Michael hissed, shaking his head. "It's as if you wanted all of those people to die."  
Catherine replied expressionlessly, "Maybe it's just my cynical nature."  
Michael gazed at her in pure disdain, as I tried to ignore her. "What about Jason?"  
"Who?" Catherine asked, yet received no answer.  
Jon looked down at the ground, and Michael just leaned against the door.  
"I'm sorry, Mary." Jon suddenly said, looking at me. "But we need to leave now."

**6:30 AM**

As we made our way to the mansion's courtyard, avoiding the central areas with my hand in Michael's, I couldn't help but think back to my childhood, clinging to another familiar thing.  
It'd been simple enough, I suppose. I was born and raised in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, in an apartment building over near the Art Museum. There, the days were always long, and the sound of the wind always amplified. Maybe it had something to do with having so many tall structures in one place?  
My father, a tall man with just about the darkest complexion and the warmest skin, was an English teacher at one of the High Schools in the city. My mother was also a teacher, but had always preferred small children to teenagers, which probably had something to do with my older brother at one point. She taught second graders at a little elementary school that I myself went to so many years ago.  
Her skin tone was much lighter than my father's, and heredity granted me the same. She, like my father, was always kind, though she was much more patient than him.  
Now, my older brother…his name was Charles, but we always called him Charlie. He was mostly like my father. However, at the age of fifteen (when I was only nine), he became involved with these older boys that he seemed to spend a large portion of his time with. He stopped coming right home immediately after school, and even started failing a few of his classes.  
One night, or perhaps I should say morning…four o'clock in the morning to be exact…he came home drunk at the age of sixteen. Needless to say, my parents were furious.  
It was around this time that I found the garden outside of my apartment building. There were all sorts of plants growing there, and I became fascinated with them.

For a moment, I awoke from my daydreaming to witness Jon cock the shotgun, and then relaxed, realizing that he was only loading it. Needing comfort from something, even if it was only memory, I sank back into my time as a child.

I started spending most of my free time in that garden, and my mother even started helping me when she wasn't too busy worrying about Charlie.  
However, one day, when we came back from the store where we'd purchased some sunflower seeds and potted hydrangeas, my mother's eyes widened. There was a police cruiser parked outside of our building.  
We left everything in the car, and she raced up the stairs far faster than my short, thin legs could carry me. When I'd finally caught up with her inside of our little apartment, I saw that she was in tears. A nice, young policeman asked my father, who was also crying, to take me into a separate room.  
It was only later that I'd learned that my brother had been shot four times in the chest, and that a zip-loc bag full of heroin had been found under his shirt.

**6:35 AM**

"Mary," Michael said, "Pay attention."  
As soon as he said it, we reached the end of the path that led from the Residence to the main Courtyard. Through the iron bars, we could see several Dobermans that looked as though they had been severely burnt all over their bodies, though they did not seem to sense our presence there. They shook as though they were rabid, and rotted flesh hung grotesquely from their bellies.  
"_What'll we do_?" Michael mouthed to Jon, releasing his grip on my hand.  
Jon looked at the shotgun in his hands.  
_"But there's more than one…" _ Michael added.  
Suddenly, Catherine ripped the shotgun from Jon's arms, pushing him back into a bush near one of the tall cement walls.  
The Dobermans suddenly looked over at us, and I felt as though my entire world had frozen at that exact frame in time.  
"Catherine!" I shouted. "What have you done!?"  
One of the Doberman's leapt at the gate, baring its teeth. Catherine's face was expressionless, but by now it seemed that she operated best without expression.  
She aimed the shotgun between two of the vertical iron bars, and pulled the trigger.  
I had never heard a gun go off before, and it sent a sensation through my skull that was fairly painful.  
The dog fell to the ground, blood flowing in rivers from a large wound at the center of its chest. It almost seemed to convulse for several seconds before its movement ceased at last.  
The other Dobermans lunged at us immediately, and even though we were protected by a gate, I was still frightened beyond belief as more gunshots sounded.  
Catherine, whom I had hated only several minutes before, had now practically become my savior. Michael looked at her in utter terror, as though he were more afraid of her than the dogs that had become infected with the T-virus themselves.  
At last, Catherine kicked open the gate and handed the shotgun to Michael, whom replied with a very hesitant, "Thank you…?"  
Jon stood from his spot amongst the bushes and shrubbery, completely dumbfounded.


	11. Someone To Watch Over Me

**Someone To Watch Over Me**

**May 16****th****, 1998  
6:40 AM  
POV: Jason**

Unlike the young people here with me, I know and accept that I'm going to die today.  
Over in the corner, cowering, is a slender blonde that I know is wishing she never came to the Estate five years ago. She's being consoled by a brown-haired boy (and I say boy because he's about half my age) that is obviously just as scared as she is. They're too young to have to die, especially like this…what a sin.  
I'll never forgive Umbrella in Heaven for what they've done here. Murdering their own is inexplicable and unfair to the families of these people…so young…

I find my mind drifting away from the five younger Scientists fretting over each other around me, my back up against the door to the Research room that we'd managed to barricade ourselves within. Memories overwhelm me, and I think back to so many years ago.  
Forty years ago, I actually heard from many people that I was a young man one could marvel at. My hair was dark, my skin a healthy olive tone, and I even heard once that my gait labeled me a gentleman, though I had little to nothing to my name.  
It was a Friday night on which I met my future wife at a party of my friend's. She was his second cousin, if I recall correctly, and it most certainly wasn't love at first sight. We never really cared much for each other until after we'd known each other for two years. After that, we went dancing every Saturday night. My fondest memory of her, Lisa, was on one of those nights, when we had first danced to a slightly more upbeat version of Sinatra…Someone To Watch Over Me.  
Of course, I loved the man's voice before I'd even met Lisa, but her love sealed me to it forever.  
And now…here I am, a divorced man with two children that are almost as old as these young men and women amongst my company now.  
It's a shame, eh? That sometimes love just doesn't last?

"What can we do?" The blonde woman asked us all. "There must be a way out of here…"  
"Maybe." I replied.  
"Don't you care, old man?" A redheaded man questioned. "Don't you care that you're going to die?"  
I shrugged.

Just then, I heard the footsteps and moaning outside of the door, and I knew that misfortune and the result of a terrible choice was approaching. And at that moment, I realized that I'd been here at the Spencer Estate for ten years; exactly one decade.  
They began to bang against the door, the floor shaking subtlety with every blow.  
It would only be a matter of time now. ****


	12. An Iris Grew Upon Her Grave

**An Iris Grew Upon Her Grave**

**May 16****th****, 1998  
6:40 AM  
POV: Jon**

For an hour or so, the four of us had truly believed that none of us would have to suffer the fate of death, that we would be fine. That several days later, we would be resting in our true beds hundreds of miles away from the Arklay Estate and its hidden agenda.  
We were wrong.

We had been so reassured after Catherine handled the pack of dogs in the courtyard…we moved as quickly as we could after that. Past the small stone structure that housed a fountain beneath its domed roof, where some of the blood from the animals had landed within its water.  
At the current moment, I contemplate whether Michael has ever forgiven Catherine and I for what happened to him, for what he's lost. Nothing is the same, anymore. The way I live has changed beyond imagination, and money, success, impressing my parents and friends…it all means absolutely nothing anymore, and I can't bring my mind to hate myself for that. Besides, what is society but an escape from pure creation that man has fashioned for itself?  
It's painful to think of that spring sunrise even now, and I'll remember Mike's loss until the day that I die.

The darkest remnants of the night were beginning to dwindle from the mountain paths, and the four of us had so nearly escaped the memories of that damn place…  
And then, as suddenly as I had discovered Catherine floating in the laboratory cylinder, Mary slumped down to her knees as we walked.  
Michael exhaled in an unsteady rhythm as he kneeled beside her, and caught her as she fell lifelessly into his arms. Blood flowed profusely as he rolled her over, and we all saw what was a bullet wound located on the back of her skull.  
"No…" Michael whispered, clinging to her. "No…"  
"…Snipers…" Catherine stated. "Jon, we have to move! Just _run!_"  
I grabbed Michael by the arm to drag him along with us, but he still clung to Mary, who even I could sense was gone from us.  
We ran for the forest, brambles and uneven terrain choking our strides. Moving as quickly as we could, I prayed that the aim of the men upon the roof was terrible enough that they couldn't hit a target moving at this speed…and yet I was afraid, for all I had was faith and prayer on my side.  
It must have worked, however, for we reached the forest at last, and continued running.  
We were far too afraid of death to stop…  
The loss of Mary was too much for Michael to bear, I could tell. But all I could do for them both at the moment was pray that an iris grew upon her grave.  
Of all of the favors in this world, I believe she would appreciate that the most.


	13. The Years In My Veins

**The Years In My Veins**

**May 16****th****, 1998  
8:00 AM  
POV: Christopher Morioka**

Everyone else is dead.  
The sun has risen, but with it comes only more horrid realizations, and more fear for me. I admit now that I have never in my entire life felt like such a coward; it is shameful and I despise myself for it.  
The Residence has been empty for a long while now, and if it were not for the images of the dead lingering in my mind, the silence most likely would have driven me mad. Even Spencer himself wasn't expecting the outbreak of the T-virus to occur. It was a complete surprise, and Spencer had seemed far more worried than usual lately. When I had asked him what was wrong, he did not give me a full reply. However, he simply muttered, under his breath, a single name…James Marcus.  
His voice had sounded so grave, and yet the name meant nothing to me.

As I gathered my papers, records, notes…my heart began throbbing uncontrollably. With every moment that passed, the pain increased, until at last I had to resort to leaning on the bed of the Residence room to support myself.  
And then, I coughed. My throat felt as though it was gorged with bile, and tasted as such as well. It went on for at least ten seconds, until I inhaled sharply in order to bring oxygen into my body.  
Blood was everywhere…the virus was progressing within me.  
_"No…" _I thought to myself in utter disgust. _"This was never meant to happen to _me_".  
_And yet it had…though I had no other sense but to deny it blindly.

Just then, I remembered the Researchers lower in rank that had escaped from the clutches of this Estate, and I felt both envy and spite toward them. Oh, how I should have left with them while I could, then maybe I wouldn't be here dying…  
I had to destroy the records of them ever being here. Otherwise, Spencer would murder me, I was sure of it. Now that they were out wandering about in the wilderness, they could escape back to Raccoon City, to the police station…they could tell them everything, and I couldn't risk that. If it did happen, the papers upon which I had forged Michael Schvinski's signature would be pointless, and I would never receive the money promised to me by my client.  
That was why I had freed Schvinski, I told myself; because I had felt the slightest pang of guilt for dragging his good name into my business.  
I sifted through the papers, records of Scientists and their photos, until I came across each of the all-too-familiar names, and ripped them to shreds…all of them. I began with Hartnett's, kicking the shreds that were left under the bed, and then moved on to Hutchinson's, and Schvinski's…and though I had not seen Jason Finch amongst the others, I rid myself of the chance that he could have run out of here with them.  
And then…there was that brunette…I frantically searched through all of the records of the Researchers, but could find nothing. It made no sense…  
And then I came to a realization. She had not been wearing an ID card…I couldn't believe that I hadn't noticed it before.  
And so, there was only one explanation; that the woman had never worked here a day in her life.  
But how?

As the seconds passed, I stopped thinking about it and told myself that if I didn't leave this place now, I'd never be able to. And thus, I gathered the work I had spent six years of my life on, and left room 002 of the mansion Residence, my heart racing, and my eyes burning.


	14. The Confession

**The Confession**

**May 16****th****, 1998  
8:00 AM  
POV: Jon**

None of us spoke within this hour; for it was that in which we laid Mary to rest beneath a thriving willow. Without one of our own, conversation seemed strangely meaningless, and our confusion concerning what was to come manifested through both grief and silence. All around us, the dense forest seemed to echo our thoughts.  
Sunlight, seemingly oblivious to the horrors that had occurred beneath its gaze only several hours before, filtered through the branches and bracken, to where it struck down upon Michael's face, now streaked with stinging trails left in the wake of tears. He had stopped crying almost an hour ago, but now his manner was expressionless, and that worried me even more.

The memories given to me by the Arklay Estate flooded back to me in waves. First came Phil, the little rebel that managed to annoy everyone and yet charm them at the same time. We had spent hours just speaking to each other about daily matters, and of course, our research. I even remember once, in late February, when he had taken me to play poker with some other men from the Research and Security personnel…I'd lost miserably, of course. But the conversations were hysterical.  
The Research…how I, how _we_, had partaken in the discovery of death, and yet overcame its former boundaries, overwhelmed and fascinated with what we had and could possibly accomplish. This was our goal, and we had lived to see its consequences.

Why were we the only ones not infected with the Tyrant Virus? The others had changed into complete monsters, still in the outlines of their former humanity. And yet we remained the same, free from the bondage of such a terrible fate…  
It must have been because of Catherine, and her natural immunity to the virus. Perhaps, just perhaps, our contact with her has saved our lives. Michael had never known the truth of her until half an hour ago, when I explained to him who Catherine truly was.  
However, we were only immune for as long as she remained amongst us. I had been immune since the moment I'd met her, and Michael was exposed to the effects through direct contact with Mary…

Catherine took a step closer to me, not exactly sure what to think of all of this. Her eyes portrayed understanding for Michael's emotion, and the impact of his loss, but she could not think of it in a context of it actually happening to her. However, this wasn't completely inhuman. After all, so many people in this world think that they are oblivious to tragedy. I admit that even I was guilty of it at one point…before I arrived at the Arklay Estate.  
Before I had nearly murdered my closest friend. Before I had proudly arrived at my destination, swaggering on the promise of life. Before I had assisted my colleagues in unthinkable experiments and research, and yet felt little regret until now.  
It had been such a long year…  
Yet I had no choice now but to continue on through the mountains and into Raccoon City. There, we would find Phil, and leave this place behind forever, if fate would permit.  
This is my crime, and this is my confession.


End file.
